


The Truth in Cliche

by GendrysNorthernWench



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, John is a BAMF, Other, Sally finally kicks Anderson into touch, just Sherlock being somewhat nice, no ships, poor Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendrysNorthernWench/pseuds/GendrysNorthernWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock elects to share some of his 'deductions' with Donovan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth in Cliche

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since we first meet Anderson I've hated him, and I figured Sally would be nicer if he wasn't such a dick, thus Sherlock telling her to dump his ass came about, there's no direct shipping just friendship =]

It was February 14th, and the day Sherlock hated most. 

 

Well, unless there was an eviscerated corpse missing its heart and right eye found in a swanky hotel just south of Kensington, then the commercialised holiday slightly more bearable. 

 

Approaching the scene with John in tow, he was greeted with the customary 'freak' from Donovan and a dark scowl from the imbecile -also known as Anderson-.

 

The case was surprisingly easy. Business woman, mid thirties, blunt force trauma to the side of the head, AB blood group, heart and eye taken for organ sale, left eye glass, possibly from childhood trauma to the ocular nerve, judging by the tiny white scar just to the left of the tear ducts.

 

Simple and painfully boring. 

 

Thus, the consulting detective had taken to deducing the twittering baboons employed by the London met office, scowling when he noticed Anderson shove Donovan roughly, knocking the woman into the wall, her wrist bending awkwardly behind her. 

 

Anderson was always careful to show his abuse when no one was looking.

 

'Such a shame she's hung up on the imbicile'  Sherlock thought, seeing the tell tale head tilt that accompanied women trying not to cry as she stalked away. 

 

Clearly another argument about when Anderson was going to leave his wife, no time soon if the curved outline of a jewellery box in Anderson's pocket was anything to go by. 

 

He considered going to piss off the head of the forensics team, but John was already approaching the man, and he was angry. Sherlock had learned relatively early on that you did not get between John Watson and his target when the doctor was angry. 

 

A fractured cheek bone had ensured he remembered that little gem.

 

Seeing -and hearing- his friend lay into the bane of his consulting life, Sherlock elected to talk to Donovan, releasing her anger at him seemed to help her function. 

 

The dark haired woman was leaning against the bonnet of a squad car, angriliy wiping at her face, smearing carefully applied eye makeup across her cheeks as she held her right arm up to her shoulder

 

"You should get John to look at that, 

 

"He doesn't deserve you, you know. Just because he tells you that he's the only one who cares, doesn't mean it's true. You're not your mother Donovan" 

 

"What the bloody hell are you on about, freak?" Sally demanded, jumping in surprise at the unexpected baritone 

 

"Anderson, you can do better" came the reply, quirking an eyebrow at the flush on her face. 

 

"What would you know? You're a fucking sociopath" she spat 

 

"I know you grew up with a subservient mother in a strict household, left home as soon as possible, found yourself in a string of controlling relationships that demeaned your self confidence and negatively impacted the way you view yourself and relationships." Sherlock paused to take a breath, and examine the shocked look on  Sally's face "you have a symmetrical face and socially desirable body shape, you are, by normal standards intelligent, when you're not being dull around Anderson, you could do much better than a man who can't keep it in his trousers and needs three Viagra just to maintain an erection longer than a minute, not that he lasts that long I imagine. Two pump chump, I believe is the term?" He finished, and couldn't help but smirk at the small giggle that escaped Sally's lips at the incredibly accurate description of Anderson and his sexual prowess, or lack of, as the case most certainly was.

 

"Thank you, Sherlock." She stuttered slightly at calling the man whose 'deductions' infuriated her for the last six years by his actual name, rather than the vicious nickname Anderson had gifted him. 

 

"You're welcome, Sally." Sherlock too stumbled over the woman's name, offering a soft half grin "Now, I believe it would be appropriate to inform the imbecile where he can shove his substandard treatment, don't you?" 

 

Emboldened by the confirmation that she was infant, better than the whore Anderson treated her as, Sally Donovan nodded sharply before taking Sherlock's proffered arm and marching towards the slimy haired git who was currently cowering from an apparently angry John Watson. 

 

Jesus, he looked scary when angry. 

 

"John, I believe Sally has something she would like to say to the imbecile" Sherlock muttered as they approached the whimpering forensic scientist and the snarling former army captain. 

 

It was a good thing Lestrade was otherwise distracted, trying to calm the manageress of the hotel.

 

The sound of his flatmate's cool, soothing tones and the mention of female company was enough to cause John to step back from his prey, who rather stupidly resumed his cocky position and spared a derogatory look for his 'bit on the side' 

 

"What?!" He snarled, and both John and Sherlock took menacing steps forward 

 

"It's over, Lavender." Sally said, secretly proud when her voice didn't crack, behind her, she could hear the muffled grunt of suppressed laughter 

 

Anderson, flushed with the reveal of his first name in front of his most hated enemy, went to slap Sally, completely forgetting the presence of the other two men -and his approaching boss- only to be struck dumb when a ringed fist collided squarely with his noise and a sharp knee rammed itself into his groin as he doubled over

 

"Nice swing. You broke his nose" John commented, grinning as Sally shook out her injured hand 

 

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Lestrade demanded, appearing by Sherlock's side just as his second in command had decked the arrogant little shit he'd been trying not to shoot for months. 

 

"Lavender here" Sherlock began, smirking at the ridiculous name "was preparing to assault miss Donovan after she informed him of her decision to no longer acquaint herself with his person in a romantic setting" the consulting detective grinned as he watched Lestrade process the information 

 

"What do you mean again?" He asked, only to have Sally's response cut off by John 

 

"You can interrogate Sally later, for now, I'm going to check her wrist and then I think the good lady deserves a drink. Spectacular swing there love" the doctor complimented, wrapping a friendly arm around Sally's shoulders, something akin to brotherly pride in his voice. 

 

As the incredibly unlikely trio headed off after a dazed nod from Lestrade, the long suffering DI sighed and shook his head, god, there was going to be a lot of paperwork for this one. 


End file.
